Lull
by Jaiasa
Summary: Rehabilitation is what they want for the elite, and with Draco as their prime example, to what lengths would the Ministry go to ensure that Malfoy stays out of Azkaban? postwar. DMHG
1. Chapter One

Lull

Hermione Granger was not the type of person to shriek. She was not the kind of girl that was given to dramatics. She would not, under any circumstances, make herself seem foolish in the eyes of anyone, especially her colleagues. Hermione Granger was intelligence. Hermione Granger was Athena incarnate.

She must, under any and all circumstances, uphold the ideal of social decorum.

Hermione looked down at her shaking hands, reading the loopy script that placed the envelope in her name again and again, trying to assure herself that it was not a figment of her imagination and that she was not crazy. She made the mental checks in her head:

'Same green ink, same loopy script…' she thought to herself. She inhaled softly and pet her owl, Nike. Turning the envelope over in her hands, she found a simple wax seal. Licking her lips, she sliced it open with a quill and watched as a piece of parchment slipped out.

Her eyes hungrily searching the letter, she found it to be pleasant, and assuring. She heaved a heavy sigh. Now she would really read the letter and imagine the writer in her mind's eye, wondering what it was that he was doing.

_Dear Hermione,_

_I can't believe it's already been ten months since we've last seen each other. I hope you've been doing well in your personal life. I've tried to keep tabs on you through newspapers and magazines and stuff—you're rising to the top! Just the other week, I read your interview in Witch Magazine, and I couldn't stop tearing up when you started harking on and on about Rita Skeeter and how you'll never accept her offer. Good for you—you shouldn't feel any obligation to speak with her, not after all she's done to you._

_I know I haven't been a good friend, leaving you to fend off all the reporters by yourself and I know that you haven't been too happy lately. Right now, I am in Europe, but that's about as specific as I can get for now. I'll tell you all about Bolivia once I see you in a couple of months to take care of that thing we always do._

_Don't worry your pretty little head over me, I'm doing fine with all this travelling, but you'd never know how much I miss England and you will never understand how much I miss you, Hermione. When I get back home, I'll tell you all about Bolivia and Ghana…I had may have had a little too much fun with the natives there…picked up a couple of tattoos and everything. _

_I know that you may have been having a hard time lately, dealing with everything, but know that I'm always with you, Hermione. You're my best friend, and I love you with all my heart. _

_Love Always,_

_Harry_

Hermione read the letter several times before she allowed herself to place it in her top left draw underneath her desk. She had always kept Harry's letter locked away from prying eyes. She knew what it would cost Harry if anyone was to track the letter's origins.

Ever since he defeated the Dark Lord, both Harry and Hermione decided it would be best if he left the country and moved around for a couple of years—7, to be exact—until everything at home calmed down. They were already nearing the sixth year, and Hermione an Harry were both very anxious about his return-- what kind of welcome would he receive? Would he be ostracized because he wouldn't become the Ministry's minstrel? Where would he work? Would he have to live with the threat of reporters and thrill-seekers on his doorstep everyday? Hermione sighed and locked the drawer.

"How cute," someone snorted behind her. Hermione's neck twisted as she turned to find her office-mate, the bane of her existence, the nail in her foot and itch on her back—Malfoy. She narrowed her eyes and growled. He really did enjoy ruining these moments for her.

The only reason the stupid bugger wasn't even in Azkaban was because of the pull the Malfoy name still had, even after his involvement in the Hogwarts takeover and Dumbledore's death. The little pecker had escaped imprisonment because he couldn't be placed on any battlefield after that, but Hermione, as well as Harry and Ron—rest his soul—knew all about how he helped Snape with his dark potions making. And although the dark wizards deserved any and everything they got, the current Minister refused to wipe out age-old families. The elite would be in an uproar. And then where would the Ministry get its funding?

So, with only a slight slap on the wrist and an agreement to act as the Ministry's example of a fully reformed Death Eater, Malfoy was sent to her department, Muggle Tolerance and Education Department. It was intended for her to keep tabs on him and to advertise the new attitude that all purebloods should now exhibit. And although he was relatively safer than he was right after the war ended, many of he Aurors and families who lost loved ones wanted to destroy him. He was being watched, very carefully, by all sides, now.

He would be the perfect scapegoat should an ex Death Eater find any dirt on him. But lucky for him, he was too intelligent to leave behind any clues to his ties with the Dark Lord, Voldemort, aside from his dealings with Dumbledore's death. The bastard had the nerve to still be a right prick, and she wanted very desperately to knock him off his high horse.

Although the current Minster of Magic was leagues better than the few previous Ministers, he certainly put her in a predicament no one would have expected. To place a muggle-born witch with an ignorant, elitist pureblood—well, anyone could have told him that it was a spell for disaster. And for the first two years that the two worked together, it was.

However, it was only within the last couple of months that the name-calling and arguing slowly became a thing of the past as they just learned how to regard each other with a cold, distant contempt that lacked the need to be expressed in words and gestures. The Ministry, itself, breathed a sigh of relief as two of the most powerful and influential people of modern times ceased to bicker. There were times that the very walls of the establishment shook under the onslaught of energy from the two.

The only times they spoke now was during conferences, and even then they refused to look at each other, and both parties were entirely content with that. But every week, when Hermione would receive a letter from Harry, who had been her pillar of strength after the War, he would find need to comment. It was on these occasions that she had decided to completely tune him out, lest she suffer another skirmish on a delightful Thursday afternoon.

Hermione turned to the leaves of parchment on her desk next. There was so much work to be done before the weekend. They were still working out various kinks in the Death Eater rehabilitation program, where the wizards and witches were stripped of their wands and forced to live as muggles for months on end, and there were also lesson plans from various professors that needed to be reviewed, section by section, to better supply the youth with knowledge of muggles in hopes that it would breed tolerance. Malfoy was not such an optimist, however, and the projects suffered several setbacks because of him.

"Hermione," came a voice from a small radio on her desk. Arthur Weasley's tinkering with muggle objects enabled him to create this gem of an invention—an intercom that could work with or without magical interference. Hermione pressed the button on the intercom and spoke as clearly as she could.

"Go on, Shirley." Shirley was their secretary. Although she and Malfoy had to share the same office, Shirley was a witch who only communicated with Hermione. He had his very own secretary, thankfully, as the woman was a few eggs short of a basket.

"A Mr. Kloninger is waiting for you outside."

"Oh, yes. He must be here about that spider-attracting honey that was found in London not too long ago." The stuff was unbelievably more trouble than anyone could have imagined. Helpless muggles would go to the store, buy themselves a nice jar of honey, only to find themselves covered in tarantulas. Honestly, it was a mean, cruel, and silly joke. She knew second-years who could have come up with something better.

"Let him in please." Hermione pushed her chair out from her desk and adjusted her navy blue sleeveless turtle neck and short black skirt. She was just about to put on her jacket when Mr. Kloninger, a pale, red-haired man with the blackest of eyes walked in, twisting his mustache in his fingers.

"Ms. Granger." He nodded.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Kloninger."

"Doing a bit of light reading, I see?" He nodded in the direction of her desk. Hermione looked back and blushed. The place was a torrential mess. The reams of parchment were scattered across the top of the tables, letters fluttering around the office, and Nike fluttering around, screeching for some sort of snack.

She looked over to her office mate and felt a surge of annoyance as he reached into his robes and pulled out a treat for the owl, stuffing it into her mouth, silencing her. He threw one look of contempt in Hermione's direction and then sat down at his neat desk to write something. Hermione angrily turned back to Mr. Kloninger.

"Have you resolved the issue yet?" She asked a bit testily.

"Ah, yes. The culprits have been apprehended. It would seem that a Neville Longbottom was at the root of this issue. Said that he was trying to develop a potion that, when sprayed on a flower, would attract bees so that they might spread pollen better. Unfortunately, he said, the potion was better at attracting spiders and such. He had no idea it was he behind the entire ordeal and has made a formal apology to the Ministry on behalf of Jolly's Greenhouses and Laboratories." Malfoy snorted from his corner.

"I thought the poor sod would one day grow out of his idiocy. I guess I was wrong again."

"Something you should be used to by now, I'm sure." Hermione quipped. As if sensing an argument brewing between the two, Mr. Kloninger politely excused himself and told Hermione and Malfoy to have a good day.

Luckily, Malfoy refused to say much else to the witch, and decided to continue writing whatever it was he was writing. She punctuated the sound of the door closing with a huff and all but collapsed back into her chair. One of these days, she was going to kill that man. A small beep from somewhere underneath all of the parchment startled her.

"Ms. Granger,"

"Yes?"

"The Minister wanted to remind you of the lunch date set at the Lachesis." Hermione sunk into her seat even lower. She and Malfoy were having a lunch with the Minister today at noon sharp at a Greek restaurant downtown. She was a little afraid of what new project he was going to have them undertake. Anymore of these dinky little projects where older wizards dressed up as Muggles and spoke in condescending tones about tolerance and love and she'd puke. Where the minister took a Sunday school approach to teaching the wizarding world about muggles, she felt it was necessary to show them the intelligence and cunning the muggles possessed that was evident in their inventions and ways to go about their daily lives without magic.

"He also says that you might want to bring lots of chocolate."

"Chocolate?" She blinked. Hermione was a major chocolate fanatic. She loved it all: German chocolate, Swiss chocolate—hell, even _American_ chocolate which had to be the worst tasting of all chocolates in the world—and it served as a wonderful comfort food.

She looked over to Malfoy's pale, laughing face. He seemed to find it amusing that the Minister was going to break some horrible news to her. She inwardly growled at the thought and shoved a quill into her small black purse, trying her best not to cross the room and Avada Kedavra him like he'd probably done so many good people.

Just look at him. Skin so pale it seemed he'd never seen a ray of sunshine in his life (which wasn't at all surprising since he lived in that disgustingly huge Manor all by himself in Northern England), grey eyes that sometimes seemed a little blue (not your attractive sort of blue, but the kind that sort of creeps you out whenever you are in a dimly lit room), and soft platinum blonde hair that fell in his eyes every now and then. Hermione had heard women tittering about that hair, saying how they wished they could just brush the strands away with their hands. Hermione just wanted to take a pair of garden shears or weed-whack the son's of bitches to oblivion.

Hermione sank even further into her chair.

_Stupid aristocratic nose. Stupid expensive clothes and good taste. Stupid white teeth and perfect physique_, she thought sourly. She watched him out of the corner of her eye. He was not paying her any mind at all, still writing in that grand script of his that made her feel like she was reading a Poe story.

"Are you going to continue staring at me all day? What are you doing? Trying to remind yourself why I'm too good for a muggle-born like you?" Hermione blushed furiously and dug her nails into the armrests of her chair.

"Shut up!"

"Good, then. I'll give you another five minutes to come up with a better retort." Hermione used to dream of the day Muggle-borns and Purebloods alike could go hand-in-hand, a day where their children would play together, unknowing of the subtle differences between them. Now she just wanted that day to come so they could disassemble her Department and transfer her to an area far, far away from the bastard.

Hermione looked at her watch to see that it was only a few minutes before noon. She stood up and stretched, earning a herself a glare from lover-boy extraordinaire. She shrugged it off and placed the jacket over her shoulders.

"Be there on time, Malfoy." She grumbled before looking up to find no one there. Was she so deeply engrossed in her internal monologue that she failed to notice that annoying pop whenever someone disapparates? She was even more annoyed now, so she closed her eyes and concentrated on the entrance to the Lachesis.

When Hermione opened her eyes, she was standing in front of the restaurant, advertized with gold leaf lettering on the glass door. Her eyes quickly perused the menu and she saw that it was a little on the expensive side. Sighing heavily, she tipped her head in the direction of the young boy who opened the door for her and she stepped in, only to be quickly ushered to the table where Malfoy and the Minister sat. Hermione took one look at them and then placed her purse on the table and her jacket on the chair.

"I hope this'll be quick." She muttered. Malfoy and the Minister stood and then followed her as she took her seat. Hermione quirked one eyebrow in Malfoy's direction.

"Good afternoon, Hermione. So nice to see you again." The older wizard rubbed his balding head, and smiled up at her.

"Hello, Minister, it's been a little busy around the office lately."

"Ginny's been asking about you. Wanted to see if you'd agree to have dinner with her tomorrow night." Hermione smiled.

"Okay, tell her I'll give her a call later on tonight." Because of her department's program, wizards were becoming more and more reliable on Muggle technologies, the cell phone being the favorite.

"May I take your order?" There was a petite waitress wearing a short black skirt and gentle smile. Hermione caught herself from giving her a once-over. She was absolutely gorgeous with her blond hair and startling blue eyes. Probably a total bimbo, Hermione thought to herself.

"Ah, yes, I would like a glass of water with a lemon."

"Ah, hello there." Malfoy sunk into his usual James Bond-like charm. Upon recognizing exactly who he was and that he was flirting with her, she fluttered her lashes and flipped her straight blond hair expertly. Malfoy ordered a glass of wine and then continued to flirt with her. After clearing her throat, the young woman looked at Hermione as if she had not known she was there.

"I would like…"

"And the young woman would like a strawberry banana smoothie with a hint of lime." Hermione kept her anger in check. How dare he order for her?! Of course, that was exactly what she was about to order, but it was the principle!

"Now hurry back, sweetheart. You don't want to make your other costumers wait." He winked at her and the girl positively swooned (**_definitely_ a bimbo**). As she walked away, Hermione pinned him with one of her most disconcerting stares, but Malfoy merely fixed his tie and looked somewhere above the Minister's shoulder.

When Hermione realized that he was staring in the window at his reflection, she rolled her eyes. The vain little bugger should get a zit. Or better yet, she should slap him just to see that satisfying little imprint of her hand across her cheek. Anything to mar that perfect, pale, aristocratic, arrogant face of his—

"Here you are." The waitress said as she placed their drinks in front of them.

"Are you ready to order or do you need more time?" She asked politely, looking at Malfoy the entire time. Hermione rolled her eyes and then remembered that she hadn't even looked at the menus. She was about to grab the one sitting in front of her when Malfoy reached over and picked it up. "Of course." He smirked.

"Pikilia for the appetizer and Pashalino Arni for the entrée." The Minister nodded.

"Bacaliaros Skordalia." Malfoy pronounced it perfectly and the waitress giggled into her small pad. "And the lady would like Chtapodi Laborigani." Hermione positively brimmed with unsurpassed hatred for the man as the waitress took the menus from him and trotted away.

"What's with you ordering for me?"

"You would have held up the poor woman if we waited for you to peruse the menu. You probably couldn't even read it." Hermione was steaming now. How dare he insinuate—even _think_—that she could not read something? Even if it _was_ Greek? She was about to open her mouth to yell at him when the minister cleared his throat.

"So, how have the projects been coming along?" He asked nervously. Hermione glared at him, but shut her mouth. Malfoy leaned back in his chair coolly and shrugged.

"As well as expected. You can't imagine that every wizard everywhere is going to cuddle up close with the muggles and mu—muggle-borns." Hermione kicked him underneath the table. She very desperately wanted him to slip up and say that word that used to bring her to tears. She very much wanted Arthur Weasley to kick him out and put out a warrant for his arrest.

"Well," Arthur looked down at his glass. As the waitress returned with the appetizer. "Would you look at that! It looks great," he smiled at the waitress. He soon began to dig in, motioning for the other two to follow. Both Hermione and Draco reached in at the same time. They looked at each other and Hermione immediately snatched her hand away. Arthur watched them with an amused smile on his face.

"To what do we owe the please of this meeting?" Draco was the first to speak after the appetizer disappeared, replaced with a salad. He and Hermione immediately began to go to work: she placed her cherry tomatoes in his bowl as he forked the radishes and held it out for her to take. She handed him her clean fork and took the extra ranch dressing from his hand. She immediately handed over the vinaigrette and then began to munch on the leafy vegetables.

Arthur Weasley quirked an eyebrow. He enjoyed taking them out to lunch only so he could see this amazing spectacle. Although the two swore to posses nothing more than the utmost hatred for the other, they sure seemed to work together seamlessly. Maybe his proposal would work, after all?

As soon as the bowls were taken away and the entrée was delivered, Malfoy tried to ask the Minister what the meeting was about again. He shook his head and bade them to finish their meals, which was done so in silence. Finally, when the table was clear and the threesome denied the opportunity for dessert, Arthur Weasley rubbed his forehead with his napkin, awarding himself a disgusted sneer from Malfoy.

"Now, I suppose we should get down to business, then." He began to wring his robes in his hand. Hermione frowned—what could have the minister so nervous? "Our lunch hour is almost over, so I'll be blunt."

"Now, we all know the trouble Malfoy has been having with the common population of the wizarding world. We all know that the masses have been stirring for Malfoy blood ever since Rita Skeeter let it slip that his family was responsible for over sixty percent of Voldemort's funding." Malfoy looked around them and covertly put up a silencing charm around the table.

"You both know how indispensable the Malfoy family's funding is to the Ministry. You also know how important his involvement in these projects is. He is the pinnacle of the rehabilitated Death Eater, and if he is to be placed behind Azkaban's walls, the elite will pull their funding from the Ministry and most likely rebel for fear that they might be incarcerated anyway."

"I understand where this is going, but I don't see how this has anything to do with me, Mr. Weasley." Hermione stared.

"I'm getting to that." He cleared his throat. "I spent all yesterday trying to figure what we can do to save Malfoy. If he goes, so does our plan o rehabilitate the ex- Death Eaters and much of our government funding and everything will collapse." He sighed.

Hermione immediately felt pity for him. Although it was due to his new position the Weasley family was no longer strapped for cash, duty as Minister of Magic was ten times harder than it ever was in the wake of this war. The hardest part had yet to pass, and she could see the last patches of his hair falling out.

He muttered something under his breath. Hermione leaned in closer to hear him.

"Hermione, I need your help." Hermione frowned.

"With what, Mr. Weasley?"

"Malfoy needs to be seen with someone not of pureblood status. Not rich, not prestigious. He needs to show that he really _has_ changed—that there is no more Death Eater left in him. I first thought that anyone would do, that any muggle-born would be able to pull him out on this one. But then, it wouldn't slip past anyone. _Everyone _would suspect that he was just using that person for this reason exactly. But with you Hermione, Harry Potter's best friend, the brains behind the Order's front…" Hermione tensed up, not sure where he was going with this.

"Hermione, Malfoy…I need you two to pretend you're in love."

Okay… that was the end of the first chapter. I think, this story included, I have about four stories I'm currently working on. I know it seems to be a bit much, but I can't stop writing new ones. I came up with this idea after I got tired of reading one marriage law fic after another. This one, I just decided to make them a little older, post-war, with Draco's ignorant beliefs still intact. I don't know… thought it might be more interesting. SO…

If you enjoyed it, don't forget to review! Give me your honest to god opinions, and I'll thank you personally in the following chapter 


	2. Chapitre Duex

I am so sorry for taking so long to post! My computer crashed and then wouldn't restart and I had to reformat my hardrive—lost all data, including original stories! Thanks for your guys who reviewed the last chapter, it made me feel great that someone actually read it and like it. I hope my writing skills are improving.

Love you lots,

Jaiasa

Discalimer: I own this laptop, some lemonheads, and a sketchbook, that's about it. Please don't sue me.

Lull

Chapître Deux

Draco stared at the minister trying to make sense of what he had just said. He said it, didn't he? The old man adjusted his collar and swallowed hard as he looked across the table to see Granger reaching in her purse in search of chocolate. Draco absently pulled a sweet from his pocket and handed it to her. She snatched it away and furiously began to unwrap it.

"_What_ did you just say, Minister?" Arthur Weasley cleared his throat and smiled nervously.

"W-what I said was, I wanted both you and Hermione to act like the perfect couple before the media."

Draco could feel the tension rolling of the girl in waves. She was about to scream-- about to throw a tantrum in a downtown restaurant where everyone knew their names and those who were fortunate enough to dine in the same area would hear her explosion and blow their cover, that is, should they choose to accept the mission.

"Of course, the both of you will be appropriately compensated."

"_Compensated?_" Her voice came out in a low hiss. "What kind of woman do you take me for Arthur?

"I take you for a sensible one. Surely you understand what good this will do to the common…"

"But they're _not_ common, Arthur Weasley, they are purebloods with closed minds and the cunning of a snake! Do you honestly believe they will believe any of this rot? Do you honestly think for a second that they would follow his example? Malfoy isn't exactly their favorite character right now, and they _hate_ everything I stand for. This won't work, I refuse, and I'm leaving."

"What about the bill?" The waitress came in.

"Malfoy would love to pay for it." Before he could even object (not that he would, seeing as how it was ill-mannered to make a woman pay for her meal), she was out the door and storming down the street, her bushy mane following behind her.

"I think you managed to piss her off, Minister."

"Yes, well, Hermione will come around."

"I'm all for staying out of Azkaban, but I think she's right, Minister. No one in their right minds would believe it."

"I'm sure that we could reveal your relationship to make it seem authentic."

"And how's that, Minister? You want me to be caught shagging Granger on the public transit system waving the banner of England and singing muggle songs?" Weasley flinched his words but collected himself.

"I'm sure it wouldn't have to go that far."

"Then how far do you intend for it to go, Minister? I'm surprised you're even suggesting something like this for her. I thought Granger was like a daughter to you."

"She _is _like a daughter to me!" Arthur Weasley stood. "I would do anything for that girl, anything at all, but right now I have to keep the good of Wizarding society in perspective."

"Be careful, Minister, you're starting to sound like my father."

"Now, you listen here, young man! I'd do anything for her and my family and I am _not_ to be compared to that monster!" Draco had to suppress the urge to chuckle. He rose from the table and put the money for the bill down on the table.

"You seem to misunderstand, Minister. My father did everything he did _because_ of his family and his love of it. He loved its purity, loved its wealthiness, loved its beauty. He sought to keep that intact. Don't claim to know anything about my father or I'll find myself in Azkaban for different reasons."

"You had better watch yourself, Malfoy. I may need you, but threatening the Minister is not going to help keep you out of a cell next to your father's." Draco clenched his jaw shut and forced his hands to relax. In a moment, he was calm, cool, collected. He ran a hand through his hair and frowned at the minister.

"I refuse to accept your proposition. I don't enjoy the thought that you believe you can whore me out, but what's even more frightening is that you'd do the same to someone you claim to be a daughter to you." And with that, he left a trembling Minister behind in the restaurant, wiping his sweaty, bald head and looking around the room to make sure no one overheard.

---------------

"You're beautiful," he whispered as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Hermione pouted her lips and then scooped a spoonful of double-chocolate chip chocolate ice cream directly out of the tub and into her mouth. Her eyes were tearing up and flowing over her cheeks.

"I've never seen the stars so bright at night." Hermione muttered the words as the old actress turned her head to the stars.

She continued to watch her favorite 1950's movie when she was interrupted by a knock on her door. Hermione sighed and stood, placing the tub of ice cream on the table next to her couch.

"Coming," Hermione straightened her t-shirt, wondering who would come calling so late at night. She stared through the peephole but didn't see anyone. She got her wand ready. Living in muggle London taught her to _never_ answer your door unprepared and never to answer it without knowing who was standing on the other side.

"Who is it?"

"Could you just open the fucking door." At first, she was going to call the cops, but when she finally registered to whom the voice belonged to, she frowned and paused.

"What do you _want_, Malfoy. It's enough that I see your sodding face all day at work, why would I want to see you now?

"Just hurry up and open the door, mudblood. I need to show you something." Hermione sighed. He would never come to her flat unless there was something wrong, and he would _never_ come calling this late at night if it could wait until the morning. She kept the chain on and opened the door a portion.

"What do you want?"

"Would you just open the fucking door?" Hermione rolled her eyes and unhooked the chain, only to have him throw open the door, nearly knocking it into her, and storming in, pushing a piece of parchment into her face. Hermione snatched it away and read the document.

It was a typed message sent to the Department of Internal Affairs.

_ To Mr. Wright,_

_ Although the case we have against Draco Malfoy has been considerably weak after his ascension to his Muggle Affairs position, I have found substantial evidence placing him not too far away from the scene of the crime the night Eleanor Hautlav committed 'suicide'. As you know Eleanor Hautlav, one amongst many of the young women Draco Malfoy has aligned himself with, was a muggle-born witch from Georgia, US of A…_

What?

"_What?_" Hermione didn't read the rest of the letter.

"They're trying to fucking pin me for a goddammed suicide!"

"Well, that's just ludicrous. Why ever would you kill someone like her?"

"Keep reading."

_ In my search to find a connection between Malfoy and this case, I stumbled upon confidential records stating that Ms. Hautlav was--_

"With child…" Malfocy finished. Hermione lowered her hand and stared at him.

"Surely no one would believe this rot."

"Oh, it gets better, Hermione."

"How's that?"

"I knew she was pregnant."

"WHAT? Wait… what, that's ridiculous, you can't have possibly," Hermione began to pace, her breathing was becoming more and more shallow and the bowl of chocolates on the small table near the doorway was beginning to look more and more appealing.

"I gave the girl some money and told her to take care of it."

"You did _what_?"

"I thought she did, too. She came back to me two weeks later and we continued to see each other for a month. After we had words one night, she disappeared and I didn't think to call her."

"She was the potential mother of your child and you didn't even think to question her health? Malfoy, what the hell-"

"Why should I care? I thought she took care of it and I was a free man. No child of mine would be born out of--"

"You do realize you could have been the reason she committed suicide."

"I figured."

"You mean to tell me that you _knew_ you could be the reason she committed suicide and that it doesn't bother you at _all?_ What kind of monster are you!"

"Whatever, it's not like I did the deed _for _her."

"You're practically a murderer and you have no guilt!"

"I've killed many people Hermione, the unintentional hand I had in her death means one less mudblood to worry about."

"You sick son of a bitch, get the _hell_ out of my flat!"

"Flat isn't the word-- infinitesimal, tiny-- now those are words I'd use to describe…hey!" Hermione began pushing him and when he wouldn't budge she withdrew her wand.

"Look, princess. You want to win at your job, you make sure I don't get into Azkaban. If you don't want me in Azkaban, you find a way to get me outta this shit. I didn't commit the murder nor should I feel any guilt for _her_ weakness and I'm getting sick of you pointing that tiny little stick in my face."

"You," she started, fire behind every syllable she spoke, "will get out of my sight this instance or I'll make uncanny use of this wand though I fear you might quite enjoy it."

"Kinky, are we Granger?" He quickly, expertly smacked her hand away and pulled her wrist behind her back and pointed his wand at her throat.

"Now listen here, Granger. I don't like being threatened, it frightens me a little and when I get frightened I do some rather nasty things to make myself comfortable again."

"I swear I'll have your ass in Azkaban as soon as you can say--"

"--Pureblood revolt?" Hermione quieted then. "As I said, get those Internal Affairs monkeys off my back and I just might consider not being such a prat to you anymore. Sounds good?"

"Fuck you, Malfoy."

"How cute. The little ball of fur's got gall." He turned her around to face him and he gripped her so tight, she knew she'd have bruises in the morning.

"I'll never go there, no matter what I have to do Hermione. Whether it's groveling at the feet of the Minister, kissing the gravestone of your beloved Dumbledore or dating a piece of filth like you, I'll do it."

"Sure you don't just have the hots for me?" Hermione smirked, spitting his age-old trademark back into his face.

"I can assure you sweetheart, I've seen, smelled, and tasted much better. Now be a good girl and do what you're told."

"I'm not doing anything for you, you heartless swine."

"So you'd like to be the missing puzzle piece that destroys all order? You're a very silly girl for that. What will they say next to your name when you're dead: 'Hermione Granger, brains behind the war effort only to turn around and watch exactly what she fought to maintain crumble and fall."

"Fuck you, Malfoy."

"You've been saying that quite often. You know, there's a philosophy that--"

"Get _out_." Malfoy smiled and then released her.

"I knew I wouldn't be able to get you to change your mind. But I thought maybe, just maybe the thought of your dead boyfriend dying for shit when his girlfriend decided to stand by and watch the purebloods flex their power over the Ministry might get the ball rolling. Guess I was naïve to believe you would be willing to honor the sacrifices your friend made." He then snatched the paper from her grip and stormed away.

Hermione looked back to the tv, forgotten as it rolled credits, and she crumbled to the floor in a heap of flesh, cloth, and hair. She curled up where she had only just stood and ignored the open door. How could he be so cruel as to bring Ron into this?

------------------

"Hermione? What the hell?" Hermione awoke when something knocked into her head. Groggily, she arose from her sleep and looked up only to find herself staring up one Virginia Weasley's chiffon skirt.

"Hermione, what the hell are you doing?" Hermione stood and moved out of the way.

"Are you okay, did something happen? Why's your door open? Oh, my God, you look a terrible mess! Did someone hurt you? I'll kill them!" Ginny began patting her down fiercely checking for any scrapes or bruises and when she found none, she gave Hermione a critical eye.

"It's nothing Ginny, the goblin-king paid me a visit last night." The fire behind the girl's eyes ignited and she pulled the wand out of her purse and set her lips in a thin line. Before she could apparate to the Malfoy Manor, Hermione closed her fingers around her wrist and shook her head.

"No, Ginny, he didn't hurt me and we don't need bad publicity."

"Then why is your door open? Why were you curled up on the floor like that? Why are you sleeping so late?"

"What time is it?"

"Five in the afternoon. Merlin, Hermione, you gave me a fright."

"I slept 'til five?"

"What were you doing in front of you door like that?"

"I… feel asleep." Ginny's expression of curiosity dropped.

"You fell asleep?"

"Yes. I simply fell asleep." Ginny stared at her for a moment and then cocked her head to the side. When she realized that Hermione wasn't going to elaborate, she shifted her weight to one leg and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Well, please don't 'fall asleep' with your downtown flat-door open or I just might have to read about you in the Daily Prophet one day." Hermione rolled her eyes as she made her way back through the living area and into the kitchen.

"So, are we still having dinner tonight or are you so upset with my father that you don't want to associate with the rest of us anymore?" Hermione whipped around.

"You _knew_?"

"Did I know? Of course I knew. I didn't think he'd actually go as far as to suggest it to you though. It's a plan that might work in theory, but putting the two of you together has been a disaster since day _one_."

"Thanks, Ginny, for telling me something so important."

"Now, don't get all catty with me, little missy, I didn't find out about it until the night before he talked to you guys. My job is potion development, not prostitution." Hermione cast the witch an evil glare and picked up what was left of her favorite ice cream. She spooned some of the goop into her mouth and gagged. Ginny sighed and waved her wand, the ice cream restored.

"If you'd get your face out of the carton we might actually get some things done today."

"I take it we're not just going out for dinner."

"Of course not, we're going shopping, too."

"Ginny…" Hermione groaned.

"Now, none of that. Those Jimmy Choos I bought you are getting a little old for my tastes and you will not-- I repeat, _not_-- be wearing those same boots three years in a row."

"But they still look good."

"But there are cuter shoes out now."

"But they're still cute."

"But why settle with cute when you can have _cuter_."

"But I don't want to go."

"But you're going to. Now stop acting like a big baby, take a shower-- I'm glad Harry isn't here to see you look a mess-- and do something with that fuzz you call hair." Hermione grumbled and threw the ice cream back down on the table.

"Stupid witch." She mumbled under her breath, but Ginny caught the words.

"Give or take a letter." She picked up the ice cream as Hermione dragged her feet to the bathroom.

-------------------

After a day of shopping madness (Ginny was quite taken with Muggle fashion since the introduction of more Muggle trade instituted by muggle-borns), Hermione and Ginny made their way to Hermione's favorite restaurant, Emilia's.

"Ooh, they have a band playing tonight." Hermione smiled faintly as they entered the dilapidated building and was delighted when the splendor inside materialized before her eyes.

"Love it, do you?" Hermione turned around to see Blaise Zabini, a tall black man with hazel eyes and a firm jaw smiling down at her.

"Blaise! I didn't know you'd be here!"

"Well, I do own the restaurant, Ninny, and don't need your invitation to be here."

"Well I beg your pardon for showing you how pleasantly surprised I _was_ to see you. What have you been up to lately?"

"Oh, you know-- a little of this, a little of that. I hear Draco's been running into some trouble with the Ministry."

"Eh…I'd rather not talk about the idiot right now, might spoil my appetite."

"Oh, well as the owner I certainly wouldn't want that, seeing as how you clean us out every night."

"Oh? Did you say something? Meal on you?"

"Ninny, I've told you about talking to me like that. I might just have to have you out of that dress before your main course arrives." The two always carried on with the light banter every time they saw each other. It was so strange seeing as how friendly they were to each other and his best friend was her worst enemy.

"So," Blaise grabbed up two menus, "Which table. Just let me know so I can kick some of these wankers out of your way."

"That won't be necessary. Give us anything that's available."

"Oh, I hate it when you settle." Blaise took them through the restaurant and all heads turned to the two beautiful young women being led by the restaurant's owner and one of the most eligible bachelors in all of Europe."

"Sure you won't need a third seat for your new boyfriend?" Hemione's head whipped up and she fought the urge to smack him on the arm.

"Don't test me Zabini."

"I wouldn't dare." He leaned down to whisper in her ear, "I've always hated you when you get angry." He kissed her on the temple, eliciting a blush from Hermione and a giggle from Ginny and he was gone in an eye blink.

"You sure there's nothing going on between you two? I could have sworn it got a bit hotter in here."

"Shut up, Ginny and eat."

"Yes, ma'am," Ginny looked down at the menu, but Hermione already knew what she was going to order.

When the waitress finally collected their menus and heard their selections, Ginny turned her face towards Hermione. "He's right, you know."

"Who's right?"

"My father." Hermione suppressed a sigh.

"I really don't want to talk about this right now."

"I know you don't but it can't wait—Malfoy's in trouble and our government needs him."

"What about me?"

"What _about_ you, Hermione? Surely you understand the gain in this. No harm will come of you."

"Oh, yeah? What if some pureblood mob jumped me in the alley or better yet, what if they come after my…" Hermione trailed off. Her parents died during the war: one of a heart attack, and one of insanity. "Well, they could always hold my cat hostage."

"Your cat?" Ginny giggled. "Hermione, I wouldn't be surprised if that ancient ball of fur didn't kick the bucket the next time you storm into your flat a little too loudly. Face it, no one will be harmed because of the mission and you know that you will find yourself in a very good position."

"And how's that?"

"Money for starters."

"I'm not a bloody prostitute--"

"Wait a minute, Hermione. This isn't prostitution. It's like being a double-agent. Much like during the war."

"Double-agent?"

"You're only pretending and you don't have to do anything you don't want to. It's as simple as that."

"Oh? And how are we to convince the world we share a bed if we can't even share office space without ripping each other's throats out?"

"Simple. Let someone catch you two snogging in the copy room, by your secretary-- you know she's a terrible gossip-- and push him away like you didn't mean to be seen. Let the rumors start. Deny them at first and then get caught out somewhere again."

"That would make me look like one of his floozies."

"Doesn't matter. You do what you must and you'll be greatly rewarded. Not only do you get a commission, raise, and better ratings amongst the purebloods you also get to shop, shop, shop and make Malfoy pay for everything."

"What makes you think he'll agree to that?"

"Oh, you know Malfoy. Once a girl starts whining, he practically showers them with jewelry and stuff. Just gotta learn to play your cards right."

"I have a feeling Malfoy wouldn't do anything for me."

"Not unless you play your cards right. Besides-- you get endless time to torture the hell out of him. Imagine the possibilities. He wouldn't be able to lash out on you either because you're doing him such a huge favor." The two girls quieted down when the waitress brought out their orders and bade them to 'enjoy'.

Hermione was practically silent the rest of the night. While she wasn't very impressed with the money and jewelry (she just wasn't that type of girl), she knew that dating the bastard would certainly improve both his and the reform programs' popularity. When the meal was done and they all said their goodnights', Hermione apparated to her small flat and sighed.

She was such a sucker.

-----------

Weeeeeeeeell, thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed. I really wanted to keep Draco's asshole-ness intact in this and I'm hoping I didn't go _too_ overboard with it. Oh, and Ginny isn't a bitch in this story. I hate it when people make her so damned slutty and bitchy and make her out to be the type that would turn on Hermione at the drop of a hat. She always seemed so sweet in the series.

OH…and did you catch the references?

Goblin King—The Labrynth ( I love David. I hope he doesn't mind I call him David)

Witch, give or take a letter—Ugly Betty (when Betty and her sister were arguing about the thieving lawyer.

Anyways… I hope you liked it.

And don't forget to REVIEW! I don't know how to improve unless you do!


	3. Capitulo Tres

Dear Readers,

I decided to be good and actually start the next chapter before I post the last one. My computer kicked the bucket a week ago so I had to re-write it. Anyways, I hope you enjoy. :)

I want to also thank:

Missmanequinx

Mytondeftiger

For both reviewing my first chapter and all of those who read the story! I really like to have reviews so I can see where I'm going or if I've lost anyone. Don't hesitate to review the stories you read because that's the only way we writers can make our stuff a better experience for you! Thanks again!

Disclaimer: I like chocolate milk.

Unfortunately that won't help me win in a lawsuit against Rowling or Time Warner or BCBG Max Azria.

But chocolate milk is good.

Heads up!

Really awkward sex scene ahead, don't read if it offends! Love you dearly:)

----------------------------------------

Lull

Capítulo Três

"Really?"

"Please don't give me an option to change my mind."

"Hermione, I'm so glad that you'll accept the mission. You know, I was just talking to Ginny the other day, she said the two of you went shopping."

"Yes, Minister," Hermione muttered as she sluggishly turned from him and dragged her way out of the office. It was terribly rude of her, but she's doing him a MAJOR favor right now and she really, really didn't want to.

When Hermione made her way back to her office, the object of her desire to hang herself was sitting in her chair, feet up on _her_ desk, smiling at her. And it wasn't a pleasant smile at all-- no, not even a smile from the devil could be more frightening than the one on the little bugger's face.

"I heard you accepted the mission."

"Did you, now?"

"Word travels fast in these offices." He took his feet off of her desk and stood. "You know, Hermione, you're in a position many women would kill to be in."

"Funny. Seeing as how one killed herself to get out of it."

"If we're lucky, maybe I could drive you to do the same." It was that particular moment when the bile rose up in her throat. "If we're going to be seen together, it's mandatory that you straighten yourself up. I've got standards."

"I refuse. You'll see as I am."

"Oh, no I won't. You look a dreadful mess. We want the purebloods to throw roses, not rocks. Tame that mane and iron your robes for once."

"Kiss my ass, Malfoy." He sidled up close, and before she could grab her wand, he fastened his grip around her wrist and pulled her up close. Hermione had never been more repulsed in her life.

"Now, that's an interesting proposition, don't you think? You know, I prefer to have your kind begging for death or a good fuck, but never have any of you the gall to ask me to do something so degrading. Thanks, but I'd rather not contaminate myself by touching these lips to any part of a mudblood like you."

"I guess it's okay for you to contaminate your dick then? I suppose after all the venereals you've had it doesn't matter as long as it doesn't mar you pretty-boy face."

"How dare you insinuate that I'm weak enough to get one of your muggle diseases." Hermione scrunched up her nose.

"Ugh, someone had an onion bagel for breakfast." Draco narrowed his eyes and the grip on her wrists tightened.

"Don't forget who's in charge here, _muggle-born_. I'd sooner see you dead than put up with any of your shit."

"Well we can't always get what want so _deal _with it." The word 'deal' was punctuated by a head butt. Malfoy released her and stumbled over to the table, clutching his forehead.

"You stupid little bint," he grumbled.

"And make sure to keep your dirty little paws off of me until we're in public, got it, asshole?"

"Sure thing, Granger. Or, should I give my mudblood pet a name? How about Binky? No? Or, maybe fuzzy-- or fluffy?"

"Shut the fuck up, Malfoy, or I just might reconsider."

----------------------

"G-G-G-Ginny! I-I-Is so pretty! She can have ANY b-b-boy panties!"

"Boy panties?"

"That's what I said."

"Hermione, you're pissed."

"Pissed? I think that's a bit much. Maybe a little tipsy. Oh, dear, do you have any more of that whatchacallits?"

"Apple Martinis?"

"Yes, that's it, hon. The one with the little doodle thingy inside. Don't get too skimpy on the vodka either."

"You'll be lucky if I add any at all."

"You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're getting rather portly around the waist." Ginny blushed.

"Now, don't take it like that, I mean in a good way. You're not so skinny and frail-looking anymore." Ginny narrowed her eyes at Hermione and mixed the drink with 1 half vodka and a quarter juice and martini mix. It would serve the witch right to get a nice, walloping headache in the morning.

"I'm sure Harry would love to see you with a bit more flesh on you. You look so much cuter."

_On second thought_, Ginny switched the glass she was about to hand Hermione with her own. "So might I ask what brought about this little celebration tonight?"

"It is," Hermione held the glass up to the light, "a celebration of my impending doom." Ginny blinked once. Twice.

"Are you mad?"

"Maybe I am. Can't believe I actually agreed to this half-baked idea."

"You agreed to my father's plan?"

"And regretting it with every beat of my heart."

"Hermione…that's wonderful. This'll definitely pick up the ministry's ratings."

"Ratings?"

"For my dad-- your office's ratings will improve, too. This is good publicity for the Ministry."

"Yeah, well, let's just hope it doesn't earn one Hermione Granger a nice, comfortable cot at St. Mungo's." Ginny had to laugh at that. Malfoy certainly was going to drive her insane.

"So what's the plan?"

"No idea. I just want to get the damned thing over with."

"Have you talked to Malfoy about it, yet?"

"I'd sooner stuff the coat-rack up his arse than have a conversation with that snake about 'coming out'."  
"Hmm…sounds like a fairytale, you dating an arrogant lord. I wonder if the two of you will fall in love."

"Yes, you're right. It does sound like a fairytale, one of the old Russian fairytales. I'm just waiting for the monsters and ghoulies to come and pluck my eyeballs out and fill the void with chocolate. At least the chocolate'll make me feel better."

"Oh, it's can't possibly be all _that_ bad."

"Ginny…"

"Okay, it's bad. But maybe the two of you might-- dare I say it-- learn to be…_cordial_ with one another."

"Yes, there's always the chance of that just as there's a chance that Snape might actually dress up in Neville's grandmother's hat and dress."

"Hermione…"

"Ginny…"

"Well, I guess you're right. There's no use in lying to you. This'll end in disaster, but for as long as it works, you'll improve the conditions of the reform programs. And you won't have to worry about money for a while. This can work to your advantage as long as you think of a way."

"_Tweet, tweet _said the caged bird."

---------------

"Where the hell are my binders, Eloise?" Draco paced the length of his ridiculously large study as he glanced around the bookshelves in search of his missing property. A beautiful blonde woman dressed in blue robes, he always made her wear blue, was trembling at his desk, watching him.

Even though the Minister's plan was designed to save him from Azkaban, he was still in a sour mood that he had to even _pretend_ to be even remotely enamored with fur-ball Granger. He nearly threw up in his mouth at the thought of even kissing her, let alone kissing her in front of his friends. So when his ditz of a secretary didn't do shit all day (he really only hired the mudblood for a good fuck) he decided to take it out on her, seeing as how she was just like that stupid bitch he would soon call his.

"Oh, Lord Malfoy, they were just…"

"I didn't hire you just to sit there and look pretty. Do some fucking work every once in a while!" She shrank back at his roar and looked down at the rich carpeting. Draco ran a hand through his hair and walked over to her. The last thing he wanted was the mud blood bitch afraid of him.

"Eloise, I would like for you to start paying much more attention to what you are doing. I can't be successful at my job if you continue to be negligent. If you continue to be negligent, then I would be forced to hire a secretary that isn't s pretty as you." she looked up, her face brightening with a smile.

"Now take off your robes, I want to show you how disappointed I am." He brought her hand down to his crotch and closed her fingers over his balls.

"Let's see how fast you can make me forget that I ever was." He placed his hand on top of her head and pushed her down until she was on her knees before him. She looked up at him expectantly-- did she want him to undress himself?

"Do it yourself, hon." She smiled faintly and opened his robes. As she stroked his length with her hands in an attempt to get him ready, Draco rubbed the top of her head. Even though he was still a bit soft, he pushed her head in a little bit closer and she enveloped him within her mouth. Draco tilted his head back and with a contented sigh, he began to massage her head, cheek, and ear.

"Do you like this, Lord Malfoy?" He grumbled in displeasure at the sound of her voice. She needed to shut up and keep sucking. Merlin, when would a woman ever learn that she's never supposed to stop once she starts?

"My Lord," irritated, he didn't answer, he just grabbed her hair and began slamming his pelvis forward, fucking her mouth gently at first, but more and more violently until she began to protest. When her struggling started to sap the excitement he got out of fucking her brains out, he pulled himself out of her mouth, hoisted her up and slammed her against the table, arse up.

Before she could say or do anything, he hiked up her robes-- of course the little slut wasn't wearing any underwear-- and he slammed into her from behind. From that point, it was purely animalistic. As her moans and groans grew longer and louder, he picked up the pace, slamming into her with a _thump, thump, thump_, as the desk moved under the sheer force of his strokes. Eloise began to cry out, but he simply quieted her by grabbing her hair and pulling her head back so he could shut her up with a kiss. She began to enjoy it then--he could tell by the way he pussy began to spasm and clench around his cock until he soon pulled out and came all over her bare ass.

After a moment of cooling down, he retrieved his wand off the desk and muttered a cleaning charm. He wouldn't want a bastard anytime soon.

"My Lord, that was…"

"Amazing, I know." Draco began to clasp his robes shut. "Go clean yourself up and then come back to pick up this mess."

"But… what about me, My Lord?" Draco chuckled.

"What about you? You've got two fingers and a vibrator. Use them." And with that, he walked out.

------------------------------

"Oh, God, Hermione, how many times do we have to go over this? You go to the Gala tonight, you sit at the table across from Malfoy, you order a salad. Malfoy interrupts you and orders you the duck. During dinner, you will continue to act enamored with Malfoy until you excuse yourself from the table. Concerned, Malfoy follows you out. You meet Malfoy in a secluded area at the ball, you kiss. It's simple."

"Go through that dinner part again," Annoyed, Ginny yanked on the corset streams of Hermione's gown.

"And why," Hermione panted, "didn't I know about this stupid get-together until the last minute?"

"You were too sloshed for the past week for me to tell you anything more important than hello and good-bye."

"Oh," Hermione wheezed once Ginny was finished.

"Hmm…this Max Azria dress is pretty cute. They usually don't do corsets like this." It had a band of lamé covered in taffeta florets with pleats and ruffles sprouting from the band at the waist.

"It's their new line exclusively for witches." Hermione smoothed the contour of her hair and turned to find Ginny staring at her, open-mouthed.

"Hermione knows a fashion fact that I don't? What is the world coming to when nerds become fashion-conscious enough to discuss the product launch of a designer?"

"Well…I thought everyone knew about it."

"You've been hanging around me too much-- not that I'm complaining." Ginny finished by placing pearl accents around Hermione's fishtail and told her to spin around so she could have a look.

"Hermione, I think we should've gone with that blue. It went much better with your tan."

"Oh, shut it Ginny. I look better in crème, and you know it."

"Eh…not really. But whatever, you still look pretty good. I don't think even Malfoy could insult you."

"I don't think it's in his best interest to insult me anymore, anyways." Hermione grabbed her small black and crème clutch and waited for Ginny to finish tying the back of her favorite Miu Miu shoes.

"Done?"

"Done…"

"Alright, then, let's move it."

"You don't need any help with anything?" Ginny laughed and motioned to herself. She was wearing a muted forest green BCBG Max Azria lace-hemmed taffetta dress with a self-tie on the waist and a tulle petticoat. She was, as usual, _hot_. Hermione smiled and shrugged. She was used to being the less beautiful of the two.

---------------------------------------------------

"Welcome all to the Ministry's annual Beltane Festivities. Tonight, the commencement of the celebration is opened with the Dusk Gala. And here we have Shirish and Rocky Patel, Ahmad Abd-Al- Hamid and his lovely wife, Zaina… and would you look at that, Hermione Granger escorted by… wait…is that? Yes it is! Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley. Those two gorgeous girls haven't been seen publicly without each other since they helped Harry James Potter, may he rest in peace, from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named-Even-In-Death." Hermione cut the announcer a hard look at his mention of the Dark Lord.

"Ah, and that, of course, is Albus Dumbledore's daughter, Naima, from America escorted by none other than Italy's most notorious playboy, Blaise Zabini. … looking lovely this evening she is. Let's hope he keeps his hands above the table this evening."

"I really wish I could shoot that announcer."

"Hermione, don't act out, okay, but there's your new lover." Hermione looked up and, sure enough, there was Malfoy, already flirting with one of the waitresses. She swallowed her repulsion and walked over to the Minister.

"Hermione, Ginny! You two look lovely!"

"I should hope so, it's hard to breathe in this thing."

"So, are all the preparations complete for that new program?"

"What new program?" Hermione almost cringed when she heard the awful voice of that awful, awful woman named Rita Skeeter. Hermione thought she would have been exiled by now."

"Just something we've been fudging around in the office with. Hermione, dear, let's not talk business tonight. You look lovely and you're catching the attention of several young men. Why don't you go mingle a little." Rita interjected.

"But wait, what about--"

"I have something of much more interest to show you. How much do you know about atoms?" Arthur pulled Rita away and started droning on and on about nuclear fission. Hermione was shocked that he even knew the words, let alone anything about the subject. She guessed he would never tire of muggle things no matter how boring.

Hermione and Ginny walked over to the dining tables and found their seats. As promised, Draco Malfoy was seated right across from her. She also noted that Blaise Zabini, who was seated next to a pretty, light-skinned, black woman, was seated next to Ginny.

"Hello, how are you?" The woman reached across the table to give her a handshake. She had an American accent.

"I'm fine…"

"I'm Naima Dumbledore, new Headmistress at Hogwarts." Ginny, who was drinking out of her glass of water, choked and sputtered. Um…wasn't she black?

"My grandfather really would go on and on about you and your friends. It's such a pleasure to meet you."

"Er…thanks." Grandfather. I guess that gave Albus' blood time to…er…dilute.

"I didn't know that Prof-- I mean, Albus had any children."

"He had a son, but he died before I was born."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that."

"Hello ladies…" If there ever was a time Hermione felt thankful for his presence, it was during that extremely awkward moment.

"Malfoy!" Hermione exclaimed. People from the other tables looked over to her in curiosity. What the hell were they all staring at?

"_Hermione_," Draco smirked, and it took all the physical strength and will power in her to not shiver in disgust at the sound of her given name on his tongue.

Malfoy's tongue. Ick.

His use of her name did not go unnoticed by those around the table, and Hermione almost wanted to smack them for even believing for a second that she was taken with the rat-bastard.

"So, Hermione, I hear you've got a new project underway." Pansy Parkinson, escorted by her older brother, Ecclesius, was just coming to sit down right next to her.

"Ah, hello, er, Pansy." Pansy was a part of her first batch of reform students. It was the most horrendous experience of both girls' lives until Pansy finally snapped. She was sent to a private hospital in France where she received extra support and treatment from doctors. It isn't always very easy to rip someone from something they've believed all their lives. Things between the two were distant, but cordial, and Hermione hoped that perhaps someday Pansy would become one of her friends.

"So, Draco, dear, I hear you've come here alone."

"Is that so, Pansy, _dear_?" as always, Draco was a right bastard to her. But after years of being around the two, she learned it was just their relationship and Draco may actually have-- dare she say it-- an emotional attachment to the woman. He was by no means in love, the poor git probably didn't even know what love is, but he worried about her when she went away on her little sabbatical.

"Well, you should've called. I'm sure Millicent would have been available."

"Yes, well, isn't she always."

"Weasley."

"Corner."

"How's your brother?"

"Which one?"

"Whichever one's still alive." Hermione winced with that familiar pang of hurt whenever Ron was mentioned. Michael Corner and Ginny ended their relationship on extremely bad terms when she wouldn't put out after her brother's death. What an ass.

"If you don't know how to treat those above your level with due respect, I'm going to have to ask that you take your dinner in the kitchen with those more on your level." Hermione blushed. The Ministry was certainly using the house-elves to cater the event. Corner blushed from the lapels of his jacket all the way to the first strands of his receding hairline.

"So, now that we're all settled, Hermione--" Pansy turned to her and smiled. "I hear you have a new project underway."

"Oh, er, yes. Yes, I do. It's a, er, program for underaged wizards. It'll be a tolerance class that will permanently remain on the schedule of every institution in England so we can catch them while they're still young and teach them moral values."

"You don't think that's terribly like brainwashing, do you?" Ecclesius chimed in. Hermione was a little confused by his hesitance. It isn't brainwashing-- it's education.

"It isn't brainwashing-- it's education. We're not taking away their free will, we're just teaching them the similarities and differences between the two cultures and how both contribute to the world we live in."

"Brainwashing." Hermione cut her eyes to Pansy, but when she saw the playful smile on her face, Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. She would not have wanted to report him to the Reform Department.

"So what's for dinner, hmmm….there's a salad—Merlin, they're not feeding rabbits-- and mmmm…duck." Ginny turned to Hermione. "Which are you having?"

"Oh, I'm not that hungry." And this was true: thinking about kissing Malfoy sent shivers down her spine in the worst kind of way.

"Hello ladies, gentlemen," the server was a cute little redhead bedecked in a simple black robe with funny little designs on the bosom that made Hermione's eyes dance dizzyingly.

"I'll have the chicken," Pansy smiled and she was the one to begin the order. Everyone went around and picked whatever they wanted of the menu and when it was Hermione's turn, she nearly choked up.

"I'll have a s-salad." She looked away, almost not meeting the woman's eye.

"Oh? Alright," she nodded and was about to move on to the men when Malfoy spoke up.

"Actually, she'd like the duck." Hermione sank a little in her chair. Everyone at the table looked between the two and Hermione sank in her chair a little more.

After the men finished ordering, the waitress was on her way and Hermione was locking lips with the flute on the table.

"We haven't toasted yet."

"Hopefully I will be before the night ends." Ginny not-so-clandestinely pushed her cup over to her.

Within minutes, the food was on the table, the minister was toasting, and Hermione was toasted. As the smell of the duck hit her, the acids in her stomach began to churn. She turned to Ginny, who lifted her brows as she watched Hermione strike her fork into the mound of flesh and open her mouth to deposit it. She quickly grabbed the glass in front of her, took a few sips, ordered some more and then took her first bite.

After that, her accomplishment went unnoticed by anyone other than Ginny and Malfoy, whose jaw was set with determination. Throughout all of dinner, Hermione drank and drank, and she ignored the pressure building up in her lower abdomen, trying to prolong what she knew to be inevitable. Finally, when she thought she could take no more (and her bladder was literally about to burst), she excused herself and made her way to the women's room.

After using the facilities, she stood at the sink, looking at herself in the mirror. Her lipstick was a little smudged-- probably from locking lips with the glasses—and her hair need one or two pats for her to be satisfied with the way she looked. Hermione checked herself from front to back until she realized what she was doing—she was actually trying to look _good_ for the bastard. Hermione splashed water onto the mirror and stormed out, and right into a soft body.

"Hermione! How are you?" It was Rita Skeeter.

"Oh, I'm alright—and yourself?" She was looking around for any sign of the bugger.

"I'm alright—listen! I would _love _to have lunch with you and Lord Malfoy about your new program! It would be an absolute delight!"

"I'm sorry, I'm not—"

"I'm sure you can take time out of your busy schedule every once and a while Ms. Granger. How have your days been since the passing of your two best friends? May I have a quote?" Hermione was starting to get very annoyed. And an annoyed drunk is never good. She always hated it when people would mention the death of Ron, assume that Harry was dead, or call Voldemort by that ridiculously long name. She glared at Rita until she felt a hand at the small of her back.

"Of course you can, but on Thursday at lunch. Be sure to bring your boss. We have an interesting story to tell. Don't we, H-er-Granger?"

"Sure." Hermione agreed, not daring to look up at him.

"Great! I'll send over a confirmation on Wednesday!" And she was gone. If she had known that all it took to get rid of her was to lie to her, she would have done it much sooner. She turned to face him.

"That meeting will certainly help inflame the rumors." Malfoy leaned down to whisper in her ear, and she couldn't help but flinch. He placed his hand on the small of her back and said, "She's still watching, and you can bet she has a camera." Hermione nervously smoothed her hair and watched helplessly as Malfoy pulled back, looked her in the eye to be sure that she was ready, and leaned back down to kiss her.

When he finally pulled away Hermione stared blankly at a spot over his left shoulder. That was it?

The world didn't fall apart?

The sky didn't fall?

The earth didn't shake as the mouth of Hell itself open up to swallow her whole?

It was all a little too anticlimactic for Hermione. She shook her head to clear her thoughts when Malfoy leaned in again, but this time, pushed a little more heat into the kiss.

He held her tight and moved her back until she hit the wall and then his hands and mouth were all over her. Hermione liked the feelings his tongue was evoking, but was a little disappointed that he had been the first guy she'd kissed in almost two years. She allowed herself to give in once he was back at her mouth, and when she placed her hands on the back of his head to nudge him a little more, random flashes of light forced her to pull away.

Hermione and Malfoy broke apart and she had to cover her eyes as flash after flash went off and the reporters encircled them, asking thousands of questions and shouting at them for another kiss. Embarrassed (and a little tipsy), Hermione leaned towards Malfoy for support. He calmly stated that there would be no comments and then he ran, with her right with him.

----------------

Ginny Weasley nearly jumped out of her chair when she saw Hermione and Malfoy run through the ballroom hand and hand, looking over their shoulders. The people at the tables muttered in outrage until there was a loud boom and countless reporters were tailing right behind them, shouting and pushing and climbing over each other. Ginny Weasley stood and looked over to her father who merely sighed and turned back to one of his companions to excuse himself.

This was either going to make or break the Ministry.

------------------------

Well,

Thanks all for reading, I certainly hope you enjoyed it. A bit anticlimactic with the kiss eh? I didn't want it to be anything special. I wanted to avoid the cliché passion before love thing that always seems to bloom between them. Hermione and Draco have become very interesting characters, to me, and I want to respect them and the relationship that they have at the moment especially since Draco is such a damned bigot and Hermione is so stubborn. Anyways, the things to come are oh, so much better and I need to stay motivated to write!

Oh yeah, and sorry about the dry sex scene. The focus isn't on Draco and some secretary so I didn't want to juice it all up. And I still wanted to show that Draco is and always will be the biggest asshole in the world. Will he change? I don't know…keep reading 

So come on…

Touch that little purple button… the one that says 'review'…

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Thanks for reading, and don't forget to review!

Ja ne,

Jaiasa :)


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